


announcing your place in the family of things

by anonymousAlchemist, emi_rose



Series: periapsis [5]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Found Family, Gen, TW: suicidal ideation and discussion thereof, fantasy CAH, goofs to feels its the taz way, in which the whole family has the knock down drag out fight we've been waiting for, some hard truths and harder conversations, they really do love each other guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousAlchemist/pseuds/anonymousAlchemist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/emi_rose/pseuds/emi_rose
Summary: in which family dinner turns into family argument hour. taako and lucretia finally make some headway. davenport confronts lucretia. also, fantasy cards against humanity is played.





	announcing your place in the family of things

Lup twirls a knife, blade up, between her fingers. Taako pokes her sides. “Hey, quit it. Gimme that.” She rolls her eyes and hands it to him, handle first. He sets to chopping artichokes, roasted peppers, pineapple, jalapeños, and ham, impatient for the pizza dough to rise.

She broaches the subject casually. “So, family dinner is next Thursday. I already checked with Skeletor, you’re free. Our place, six o’clock.” She can’t see his face, but she sees his shoulders set and his ears twitch anxiously. His knife slows.

“Family dinner, huh? Wanna get more specific on who’s comin’?”

“You know,” Lup says airily, “the fam. ‘Cept Ango, said he couldn’t get off school, so he won’t be there…” She uncovers a big steel bowl and pokes at the rising dough.

“Is _she_ coming,” Taako asks.

“Yeah, if she can make it, she said her work schedule was heavy this week.” Lup mage-hands a giant wooden spoon over to the bubbling pot of tomato sauce and gives it a stir, sneaking a taste. It’s perfect.

“Cool. Uh, yeah, _great,_ so, cha’boy is _out,_ then,” Taako says.

“Nope, he’s not, don’t even start with that. Blah blah you hate her guts, whatever, just help me cook and be civil.”

“Yeah but have you considered this: I don’t wanna.” Taako slices several more jalapenos savagely. “Look. No biggie. Cha’boy will have a nice night with his fantasy Netflix, no problemo whatsoever.”

“C’mon, do it for me?” she asks, sweet as anything. She bats her eyelashes for dramatic effect.

He groans. “You _know_ it doesn’t end well,” he tries.

“No dice, I saw you two cuddling, it can’t be _that_ bad.” She fixes her twin with a hard stare.

“Yeah, after we duked it out for an hour! You wanna watch me an’ her get in a verbal fistfight? A screamin’ beatdown?”

“Don’t be late,” she says, sing-song, faux-casual, and pops a piece of artichoke into her mouth. They finish preparing two pizzas in silence: pineapple-jalapeño-ham for the twins, and artichoke-red pepper for their less-adventurous counterparts. Family dinner is a later problem.

* * *

 

The twins, as always, are nothing short of fabulous, as is the meal they’ve concocted. Pitchers of sweet plum sangria and a tasty grapefruit-ginger cocktail, dangerously strong, sit on the marble counter, magically cooled to the perfect temperature.  

There are canapes, of course, made in an anxious all-night reverie. Lup hadn’t said anything when she woke up to a meticulously clean kitchen and a fridge stuffed to the gills with prepared ingredients and dishes ready to cook, but she had certainly looked askance.

“I got bored, okay? Lay off.” Taako says, apropos of nothing.

“Whatever you say,” Lup replies, and goes back to peeling garlic.

He’s outdone himself again — tiny twice-baked spinach and artichoke potatoes, meatballs — perfectly tender — with two dipping sauces, still-warm homemade ricotta with fresh-baked focaccia, homemade smoked salmon, and baked brie have been arranged and rearranged on the sideboard. A crown roast of lamb is capped and ready to go in the oven as soon as people arrive, a pot of aligot is on the back burner, and a smorgasbord of side dishes sit in various stages of preparation.

Lup disappears into her bedroom and emerges half an hour later, still stunning in a soft red sweater and jeans that she’d bedazzled on the butt with her name.

“You ready, babe?” she sticks her face between Barry and his book. He kisses her at the corner of her lip absently. “It’s just dinner,” he says. He’s wearing what he spent the entire day wearing: jeans and a t-shirt modeled after a fantasy football jersey. SCIENCE, number 69. Lup bought it at a trashy roadside stand.

She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, help me run interference, would ya?”

“Hon, trying to manage them is going to make both of them antsier,” he says. “Contrary to, uh, what they both usually act like.”

“You talkin’ bout me?” Taako says, dropping in on the other side of the couch.

“Nope,” Lup says, and heads for the kitchen.

“Yeah you were!” he calls after her. He looks at Barry. “So, what’s the hot goss? Whatcha been saying about Taako, when I’m, you know, in the same room as you. Not good plannin’, my man.”

Barry shifts uncomfortably. “Nothing, really, just Lup being Lup. Uh, those, uh, those meatballs smell fabulous. Um, did you make, uh, that glaze? The one with the hoisin sauce?”

Taako narrows his eyes. He shifts closer. He does his best to loom. “Barold.”

“Take it up with her,” Barry mumbles, and dodges Taako on his way to the kitchen, hoping to score some canapes and avoid any more tension with his brother-in-law.

Merle and Davenport are the first ones to arrive, only ten minutes late, questionable party games and strawberry rum in hand. Merle plunks the hand-labeled booze on the kitchen island and rummages in his bag for a moment, tossing Davenport a box of fantasy Cards Against Humanity, shortly followed by three presumably plant-themed expansion packs. They set up a game on the coffee table and rope Barry and Lup into playing. Taako lingers in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on everything.

Lucretia arrives shortly after, carrying a magnum of middling-quality red wine. She hangs up her coat and sits down on the couch next to Merle, shooting an anxious look at Davenport. She unscrews the cap on the bottle and doesn’t bother with a glass - she won’t until someone makes her. Taako takes her arrival as his cue to put the lamb in the oven and watch it _very_ intently.

She deals herself into the game that’s just begun and tries to focus on the sans-serif words jiggling ever-so-slightly with the tremor of her hands. Lup’s up, and she cackles, placing the black card face up on the table with a flourish.

“Someone...is mad at wizards. Why? Play to your audience, dolls.” Lup sits back with a satisfied smirk, watching her family sort through their hands. Davenport puts a white card down almost instantly, then makes his way to the kitchen to swipe more meatballs. Merle follows suit, smiling to himself in a way that almost _certainly_ guarantees a dirty joke. Lucretia’s thoughtful about her choice, stealing nervous glances at the kitchen between pulls of wine. Barry can’t stop a laugh from bubbling out, despite his attempt to hide his face behind a fan of cards.

Davenport makes his way back to his seat, meatballs and ricotta-spread focaccia balanced perilously on a little plate. As soon as he sits down, Lup finishes shuffling the four black cards she’s holding and puts them face down.

“Okay. Someone is mad at wizards. Why? First up…'demons and shit'. Good start, fuckin’ demons are annoying. Though I’m not sure that’s _wizards,_ _per se_ , but let’s see what else we got. ‘How great my ass looks in these jeans’ —”

Barry laughs again, leaning back. “With your name on it and everything!”

“Babe, you’re so transparent,” Lup says, lovingly, patting her flank and fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Back to business — _Nope,_ no, not reading this one, goddamnit Merle, ya nasty!”

She pulls the offending card from the pile and levitates it, then sets it ablaze, letting the ashes sprinkle on the table. “Anyways. Last one, better be good.” She squints. “ _Elf cum?!? ELF CUM?!?”_ she practically screeches, flinging the card on the table. “Who _did_ this to me, _who_ made me say those words out loud with my _own mouth?”_

“ _Really_ , guys?” Davenport puts on his Serious Captain face.

Barry puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I did the jeans thing, wasn’t me,” he says.

Taako pokes his head in at the commotion. Lucretia takes another drink.

“Whoever it was, it’s brilliant. Take your card and never make me say those words again,” Lup announces.

Davenport grins and snatches the card up. There’s a pause, then an explosion of laughter that Magnus can hear from the foyer. He’s late, with dusty pawprints on his coat, a case of Redcheek cider under one arm and a family size bag of fantasy Cheetos under the other.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, Taako pulls the lamb out of the oven and the game underway in the living room wraps up as a mage hand — Lup’s, surely — uses a pack of cards to beat Merle about the head. Perfect timing.

It starts well, at least, as well as anyone could expect. Barry kicks Taako under the table when he starts to get out of line, and Lucretia gets quieter as she gets more tipsy.

Dessert is a sculpture of a tarte tatin, apples sliced thin and stacked into a gorgeous flower, caramel sauce permeating the whole thing.  

Lucretia can't suppress her gasp when she sees it, and she doesn't think before she speaks. "Wow, Taako, this smells even better than the last time you made it," and she realizes what she's said, a moment too late. He hasn’t made tarte tatin since they celebrated a successful mission with a good old fashioned Bureau party.

He stiffens. “At least this time it’s fuckin’ deserved.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she says, reflexively.

“Oh, fuck you,” he says, and it’s no idle insult. “You don’t get to say that shit to me.”

She stares through him, and it’s more than a little dangerous. “And you don’t get to pretend like none of it ever happened.”

He puts the knife down. “Are we, are we fucking doing this? Are we doing this, _here_ , right now? Is this what’s happening?”

She cocks her head, stands, crosses her arms. "Stop running away, Taako.”

“From _what_?”

“From me, from your past — _our_ past, lest you _forget_ — from your feelings, need I continue?” Her nostrils flare and she stares him dead in the eyes, daring him to take the bait.

“You. Don’t. Get. To. Say. That. To. Me,” he says, meeting her gaze head-on, each word deliberately enunciated.

She puts her palms down on the table, hard, and leans in close. “I am done,” she leans even closer, close enough to feel the heat rolling off his face, “ _capitulating_ to you.”

“As if you’ve ever _capitulated_ to anyone in your life, _Madam Director._ ”

“How _dare_ you,” she spits, venomous.

"Sorry, Lup," Taako says, glancing over at his sister. "I tried, I fuckin' want it on the record that I tried, alright? I was bein' good about it!" He turns back to Lucretia. "But listen, Luce, _drop it right the fuck now or we're gonna be wrecking the fuck outta this nice family dinner._ "

“Can’t handle the truth, hm?” she says, and it’s maybe more snide than she intended.

“At least I’m not the one who can’t _handle living!_ ” he says, almost shouts.

Taako claps his hand over his mouth. “Aw. Fuck. Shit. I shouldn’t have—”

“Oh, yeah, because someone who wants to die but doesn’t have a reason _totally_ counts as functional, sure, you got a bridge to sell me, too?” Lucretia stands up, nostrils flaring, staring daggers at him across the table.

“Least I’m committed to sticking around!” he bites out, the planned platitudes and apologies falling away. “How many times did I have to talk your ass down off a cliff? How come I’m the one who had to do that, huh?!”

“I didn’t ask you to save me! It’s not your, not your _responsibility_ ! And bull _shit_ you’re committed to sticking around — you’re only here because your boyfriend will drag your ass out of the astral sea if you try any shit, and you weren’t smart enough to find a way around that! Fuck!” She’s breathing hard, accelerando, leaning over the table, hands dangerously close to the cake stand.

Taako stands, the chair behind him falling to the floor. His breathing as harsh as hers, his voice nearly a scream as he says, “What the fuck else am I supposed to—”

“You want to kill yourself?” Magnus’s voice cuts in. Quiet. He’s looking between both of them. He looks like he might start crying.

The expectant silence hangs in the air, with only the sound of harsh breaths cutting through. “What the _fuck_?” Lup whispers.

Taako takes a deep breath. Calmly takes a step back. Refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.

“Right, that’s it, I’m going. Cha’boy’s out. Told you this was a bad idea, Lup.”

He raises his arm to cast a spell. Before he can channel any magic, Kravitz grabs his hand and drags him over to the couch.

“Hey, lemme—!” Taako tries to tug his hand away from Kravitz. He doesn’t succeed, and he’s gently but firmly pushed down onto the cushions. “I’m serious! Lemme—” He stops talking when Kravitz turns his head to look him in the eye. “Aw, no, babe,” Taako says, reassurance leaking in. “No, don’t look at me like that.”

Lucretia is still frozen over the table, a tableau of primal fear, looking for all the world like a cornered animal. She might as well be - her eyes, normally piercing, are inky pools, her pulse flutters in her throat, she does not breathe.

Kravitz is unmoved. Taako tries again to gently extricate his hand from Kravitz’s grasp and this time Kravitz lets him. In a blink, he tries to stand. Kravitz immediately puts his full weight on Taako, forcing him back down. He Blinks into the ethereal plane, followed in an instant by Kravitz. He sags back into the material plane.

Lup wheels on Taako, laying into him.

“Do you want to explain _what the living fuck_ is going on?” she says, glaring through his head.

“Uh, no,” he says. “I would really, truly, most definitely very much like to do the exact opposite of that but here we are, I guess, yeah, this is happening, wow, why are you looking at me like that, can you, let’s do something _else._ ”

“Answers. Now.”

“Answers, never?” he tries.

Lucretia pushes her chair back, and the noise cuts through the silence. Lup whips her head around to look at her.

“And you!” she says. “No, don’t you dare try and walk away. Maggie, grab her.”

Lucretia freezes on the spot and allows Magnus to lift her bodily and deposit her on the couch. He sits on her. She doesn’t protest. Lup crosses her arms.

“Now,” she says, tone light, breezy, extremely constructed. “Would _you_ like to tell me what is going on? Because I’ll be honest, babe, finding out that you and Taako have some sorta mutual _suicide pact_ , is not where I expected this night to go.”

Her voice only breaks a little at the end.

Lucretia elbows Magnus in the ribs. “Can’t breathe.” She strains to get the air out. “Big lunk on me.”

Magnus shifts a little, but keeps her firmly grounded through a large arm set across her shoulder. Merle sits on the armrest. “You know, I will Zone of Truth all of us if I have to,” he threatens mildly. “Knew somethin’ was up with the two of ya.”

She shifts uncomfortably and glares at Taako. “Well, if you insist, since _someone_ couldn’t keep his mouth shut —”

“I said I was sorry! Oh. wait, I didn’t say I was sorry. Still! You’re the one that kept talkin’.”

“We _could_ be having this conversation in the Astral Plane, I suppose we have you to thank for that,” she says, dodging the question.

“Well, would you rather be dead?” he says. “Oh, right, you _would_.”

“That’s neither here nor there —” She stops abruptly when Lup’s scythe swings dangerously close to her face.

“I tried being nice,” she says. “But you are _going to talk about this_ , regardless of whether either of you want to or not. I have absolutely no qualms about Merle zone-of-truthing this whole house, and if that’s what it takes, that’s what it takes. Now. _What’s this about you two being suicidal?”_

Lucretia looks desperately around the room for help and is met with similar glares. “I wouldn’t characterize it _that_ way, _per se—”_

“I cast Zone of Truth!” Merle announces. A tingling wave of magic floods the room. Taako rolls his eyes reflexively.

“Lucretia,” Magnus says. “We’re just worried about you.”

Lucretia scowls. “I know.”

Barry takes Lup’s scythe, which is hovering in front of his face. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Luce, Taako. Lets, uh, let’s start with the basics. So. You tried to kill yourself.”

“If you’re speaking technically, then yes.”

“What happened, Lucretia?” Davenport cuts in, and he’s using his captain-voice now.

Lucretia unconsciously stiffens, trying to sit up straight despite the weight on her shoulders. She looks at her hands, her knees, the cards still strewn across the table. She doesn’t make eye contact.

“Captain,” she begins, and her voice breaks.

“Lucretia,” he says again, and if his voice is not kind, it is not unkind either. “What happened?”

She buries her face in Magnus’s shoulder, something she hasn’t done in almost a century, the steel in her spine long gone.  He moves his palm to the back of her neck. A warm weight. “Better now than later,” he says. “It’ll be okay, okay?”

“Captain, I can’t, you don’t, I—” she says, muffled, magic fizzing on her tongue.

“I think we deserve some honesty, Lucretia,” Davenport says, and she sits up, facing him, staring at her knees again.

She tenses up. “You deserve a lot of things from me. Deserved a lot of things from me.”

“Yeah, we do,” Merle cuts in. “Like, woulda been nice for you to explain your plans before going through with them. But right now, I think the point is that _you_ also deserve some help, and we can’t do that for ya unless you talk to us. And if you think that you don’t, well, tough, kiddo. We’re not going anywhere.”

Her face crumples. “It’s bad enough I’m making this all about me,” she whispers. “I’m not...necessary anymore. I’ve made enough mistakes.”

Lup laughs, and it’s a little sad. “I mean, haven’t we all?” She pulls at an invisible thread on her shirt. Lucretia smiles wanly, eyes still glistening with tears.

“I suppose that’s true. But you, you’ve been redeemed and forgiven, lich crimes and all. I don’t think there’s any justification for me. I—I put you through all of that for what? For me to fuck it all up. For nothing.” She takes a deep breath.

“Fucking hell, Luce, the cat’s outta the bag, just _tell them_ ,” Taako says, exasperated.

“Tell them _what_ , exactly? How I died a bunch, when we were, back then? Or maybe how you’re jealous that I found an out where you couldn’t?”

Taako’s ears fold even flatter against the side of his head. “You’re a real dick sometimes, you know that?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” she snipes.

“Oh, just tell them how you tried to jump into the plane of fire already,” he almost snarls. “Before I tell ‘em for you.”

“Go ahead, you’re already halfway there,” she says, crossing her arms and settling back on the couch, still coiled tight.

“Fine? You wanna tango? Let’s tango,” he says, and gestures theatrically around the room. “Here’s the sitch, ladies and gents, your girl here borrowed my pocket spa, spewed a buncha, a bunch of self-flagellating _bullshit_ at me, and tried to off herself right in front of my very fucking eyes. Your girl Luce is certified _suicidal_ , alright? Them there’s the facts, and oh, stop glaring, Lucy, _you asked._ ”

“I’m not _glaring_ ,” she says, voice cold and too calm. She reaches unconsciously for her staff, which she left at the table, reeling from the shock of it all.

Davenport snags it before she can finish summoning, just as the wood starts to lift off the ground. “Oh no you don’t,” he says.

She stares at him, agape. “That’s— you can’t— I wasn’t—” and sags back against the couch in defeat. Davenport strides up to her, the staff comically oversized for his stature, and fixes her with a glare before turning to Magnus.

“Let her go, Magnus. We’re going to have a chat.” The look she gives him is inscrutable.

“Do we have to talk...here?” she asks, and her eyes glance around the room swimming before her, a not-unfamiliar tableau of everyone she loves and has loved. She can’t stand it.

Davenport’s eyes dart around. “No,” he says. “But your penchant for secrecy has been historically… inadvisable,” he points out wryly.

She dips her head, a flood of shame and deference pulling at her. “Please,” she whispers, a barely audible supplication hanging in the air.

Davenport has lost a lot of things over the years. His dignity, his patience, his desire to play games. He’s earned his forthrightness, he thinks. “No, Lucretia,” he says. “We can talk in the garden, but you _are_ going to talk.”

When he looks at her there’s an overlay of the girl he accepted for the mission, the woman who plucked his mind from his skull. In some ways, she is his responsibility.

Lucretia stands, meek for the first time in decades, and follows her captain to the back door as a marionette pulled by the strings of fate.

Magnus is loath to let her go but if he trusts her to be safe with anyone, it’s their Captain.

The garden behind Lup and Barry’s house is something of a wild tangle—neither of them has a strong desire to tend to it. The riot of greenery has only grown over the past months because Merle thinks that plants are an appropriate gift for literally every occasion. There’s an old bench on the lawn, the heavy late-summer heat hangs in the air, the low sun casts everything in a lingering light.

Lucretia inhales deeply, taking in the sickly-sweet of fallow fruits left to rot, the perfume of the bitter-earthy-complex scent of greens crushed underfoot, a pell-mell tangle of life reaching ever-upward for the light. She sighs and sits on the bench. She plucks a black-eyed susan from the bed behind her.

“Captain,” she begins, unable to meet his eyes.

“Is this related to the time on the Starblaster?” Davenport says, blunt like a brick to the skull.

Lucretia, taken aback, tries to collect her scattered self. “What isn’t, at this point?” she responds, quietly.

“I have no patience for games, Lucretia. Not anymore. Start at the beginning, please,” he says. It is not a request.  

It hits her like a club to the gut and she curls up on herself for a moment, tries to reach for the steadiness that carried her even-keeled through years alone. She sits up, sets her shoulders, and retreats to a space just outside herself. “Do you remember the cyclone?”

He does. He remembers every disaster — better than not remembering. “Yes,” he says, nodding.

She begins pulling golden petals from the flower she’s been twirling between her fingers. “Asteria, population 351,487 at the last census.” Her voice cracks at the death toll she was unable to prevent, a hundred thousand lives gone in a matter of minutes. “And how — I got sick,” she says, voice steady again.

“Yes,” he says again. And he realizes, now, what she’d done.

“After...after the storm, I couldn’t stop seeing their faces, the children who drowned. Some of them, they looked like they were sleeping, and some of them looked like, like, they weren’t even human anymore.” She pauses and crushes what remains of the flower between her fingertips. “It just got worse, when I —” her voice cracks again. She closes her eyes to steady herself. “Belladonna, it makes you hallucinate more. They talked to me, and I couldn’t get away.”

“And you killed yourself,” he says.

“Well, obviously it didn’t take.”

“No, really.”

She picks another flower. She can’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He sighs. “Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I don’t owe you an apology?” She crosses her arms, reaches for her staff again. It’s still not there.

“Well, you very much do,” he says. “But not for this, I think.”

Davenport has practice in putting aside his emotions. His fear, his worry, his anger — the Judges called his sin wrath, and they were right. There is a kernel of deeply seated rage that he can’t shake, a part of him that wants to never look at Lucretia’s face again, a part that wants to castigate, to verbally ream her, to destroy her and never look back.

There is another part of him that looks at her and sees the girl he tapped for the mission, barely out of college, his responsibility. Davenport knows responsibility. Knows the weight of other lives counting on your decision, knows how sometimes the individual must be weighed against the whole and found lacking. Lucretia succeeded, is the thing. She never should have had to.

“What was Taako saying, about you?”

“There’s a point where apologies aren’t enough,” she offers, knowing that she will have to explain herself.

“Lucretia,” he says.

“I can’t fix it, I couldn’t fix it and it’s killing me.”

“Lucretia, I don’t want to hear about how you feel, I want to hear about what happened,” he says, snapping finally.

She blinks back tears that slip through her facade of calm detachment. “What more is there to tell?”

“You haven’t explained anything,” he says, ignoring her tears for the moment. "You’ve, you’ve castigated yourself, you’ve talked about the past, but, Lucretia, _Taako said he saw you try to kill yourself_ , and you need to explain that.”

She shrugs, managing to be petulant and sheepish. “I found a way around, around the jurisdiction of the Raven Queen. I know if I’m not careful, they’ll all come after me and I can’t—” She takes a shuddering breath. “None of us needs that.”

“So you’re saying you tried to kill yourself,” he says. “Recently.”

“What does it matter, clearly nothing happened,” she bites out. “But. Yes.”

“Lucretia.” His gaze bores into her.

She stands, drawing herself up to her full height, and forces herself to stare at her captain. “I tried to kill myself, and I failed at that too.” She makes for the sliding glass door, trembling.

* * *

 

The room is quiet after Lucretia and Davenport leave for the garden. Merle and Magnus slip into the foyer to have a whispered conversation. Taako tries half-heartedly to wiggle out from underneath Kravitz, who only encircles a hand around Taako’s wrist.

“So, that’s gonna be a fun conversation,” Taako quips.

Lup just glares at him. “Don’t you dare think you’re getting out of this one. What the _fuck_ are you _thinking_?” She gets close to his face, and it would be too close if it wasn’t his sister. Barry slides his head in right next to hers.

“Yeah, what the _fuck_?”

“Hey, what did I do?!” Taako says, voice high and annoyed. He shrinks back. “Go annoy Lucretia, she’s the one who cha’boy had to stop from jumpin’ into uh, _literal hellfire.”_

“This isn’t about her, this is about _you_ ,” Lup says, unrelenting.

“For once in my life, Lulu, this _definitely_ isn’t about me,” he says.

“Wishful thinking, babe.”

“Can we not?” he says hopefully.

“As much as you’d like to, we’ve been avoiding this long enough, _apparently_ ,” Kravitz interjects, somewhat muffled.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Taako lies. “Also, let me go. What have you been eating?”

“Same thing you have, dear,” Kravitz says mildly. “And, no. Not a chance.”

“Okay, but have you considered...yes.”

The tension hangs in the air. “You’re full of shit. What’s really going on? ” Lup says, ever tactful.

He shrugs. Buries his face in Kravitz’s shoulder. “M’told you. Watched Luce try an’ off herself. Again. It’s starting to get weird.”

“Again?!” Lup interjects.

“It’s not about her,” Kravitz points out. He uses his free hand to stroke Taako’s hair.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to tell you, my man,” Taako says.

“What’s been going on would be a good start,” Lup says.

He shrugs, and they’re back where they started. She’s been through all the platitudes, Kravitz has too, and there’s no point to trying that again.

The door slides open, and Lucretia stares, caught between two conversations she absolutely does not want to have. She freezes. The damage is already done. Whatever could have happened is rendered moot by her presence.

Taako glances over at her, arches a brow, grasping for distraction. “You done getting shrink’d?”

She scoffs. “If that’s what we’re calling it now, then, yes.”

“So what’s the verdict, Luce, Cap lettin’ you get outta here alive?”

“As much as I’d rather he not.”

“What?” Taako wrinkles his nose.

She rolls her eyes. “Do I _not_ get to make morbid jokes about my own death wish?”

“Not when you actually tried to kill yourself,” he says, saying the last two words in a sarcastic sing-song.

“Careful with who you’re throwing stones at,” she fires back.

“You don’t, you don’t get to say shit to me!” he says, trying again to stand, again being stopped by Kravitz.

She rolls her eyes again and sighs, petulance once again seeping through her facade of gravitas. “Are we done here?”

“Uh, probably not, Luce,” Barry says, cutting in to hopefully prevent the conversation from turning into a knock-down brawl.

“Ugh,” she plops down on the couch next to Magnus, holding herself with arms crossed, trying to physically hold herself together. She’d managed for so long, if she could just keep it together for a few minutes more, she could disentangle herself from this. From them.

“You know if you guys die, I’m bringing you back, right?” Barry says mildly.

Kravitz glances over at him. “I’m right here, you know.”

Barry shrugs, looks pointedly at Taako sitting snugly in Kravitz’s lap. “You wouldn’t stop me.” Kravitz scowls, but holds Taako tighter.

“Yeah, and that’s why this whole thing is a _waste of time_ ,” Taako says, slapping Kravitz’s arm again to try and loosen it from around his waist.

Lucretia could point out the flaw in this reasoning, could point out that she’d found a loophole and that they’d never find her ashes, but instead she bites her tongue and turns to Taako. “The less you fight it, the sooner it’ll be over,” she says evenly.

“Fuck that!” he says. “ _You_ might need this, but _I_ don’t need to be here.”

She shrinks back. “ _You_ don’t need to be here?” She barks out a half-laugh-half-sob. “That’s rich. That’s fucking rich.” She tries to stand up, but a large hand settled on her shoulder keeps her on the couch.

“Oh yeah? Oh, that means a _lot_ coming from you,” he snaps.

“We’re doing this now, are we? Fine!” she yells, world spinning a little off-kilter as something snaps inside her more permanently than before. “I wish you hadn’t stopped me! Why didn’t you let me die? We’d _both_ be better off. And you give _me_ shit for taking people’s choices away.” She breathes hard and fast behind a veneer of icy anger.

“Sometimes I wish I had just let you die,” he says, words falling out of his mouth without any filter.

“Sure, and I wish I’d just let the world get vored, while we’re wishing,” she snaps.

“You’re kinda fucked up, you know that?”

She laughs wetly, hangs her head to her chest. “Aren’t we all,” she says, gently.

“I like to think I’m pretty alright,” Taako says, sardonic. “...Sorry.”

“If you’re pretty alright then I’m the happiest motherfucker there is,” Magnus cuts in.

“Usually I’m the one apologizing,” Lucretia quips, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah, well fuck both of you,” Taako says, heatlessly.

“Pretty sure they’ve got that covered between them,” Merle cuts in.

A chorus of “ew, gross, please never say that again” breaks out among the assemblage. Lucretia laughs sheepishly, Magnus, openly.

“Whaaaat, you were all _thinking_ it, why can’t I say it? _”_ Merle whines.

“Because it’s _gross_ , old man, we’ve had to see enough of you sweet-talking plants and whatnot, cut us some slack,” Magnus gripes.

Before she quite realizes it, Lucretia’s buried her face in Magnus’s shoulder, trying to avoid the shit-eating grin she knows is pasted on Merle’s face, pretending to be appalled.

This is a familiarity that for the longest time, she thought she would never have again, being able to sit, surrounded by her family. This was something she had thought lost, given up, part of the bargain she made to save the world. But she's still here, and she’s not alone.

“Look, I’ll cut you a deal,” she says, muffled by sweater, trying not to revel. “I’ll talk if you talk.”

“‘Bout what?” Taako says, glancing around the room. The rest of their family is watching them. He scowls. “Hey, we’re trying to have a _moment_ here.”  

Lucretia sighs through the fabric. She doesn’t want to see them. “You know. This.”

"I don't want to," he says, smaller than before. "Cha'boy really, really doesn't want to."

“I know,” she says, and she waits.

The rest of their family, pretending not to watch. The way it doesn't hurt anymore, to have her near. They used to be close. He was scared, when he stopped her from stepping into the pit of fire. Forgiveness is hard. Caring is harder.

Pretending to be alright is the easiest thing in the world for him. He can run words in circles forever like a perpetual motion machine. He wishes she would talk to someone.

"Yeah," he says. "Okay. Mutual talk pact, let's fuckin' go."

It sits between them, not quite real yet, and she takes a hard breath. “Okay. Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final installment of _periapsis_ , thank you for reading! This one's been in the works since February and it feels really good to put a bow on it. Find Iz on tumblr at [@anonymousalchemist](anonymousalchemist.tumblr.com) and Emi at [@emi--rose](emi--rose.tumblr.com). Please come yell at us! Liner notes to come when Iz isn't gallivanting. 
> 
> The title is from Mary Oliver's wonderful poem [Wild Geese](http://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/geese/geese.html).
> 
> Many thanks to [@Tanacetum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanacetum) and [@epersonae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae) for their betaing and edits, and to [@transdavenport](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transdavenport) for his absolutely clutch Cards Against Humanity searching. We couldn't have done it without ya. 
> 
> Recipes for everything mentioned in this fic (many of which Emi has made and approves of):  
> [Sweet plum sangria](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2013/08/plum-sangria-ginger-maraschino-cocktail-recipe.html)  
> [Grapefruit-ginger sparkler](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2012/02/drinking-in-season-grapefruit-ginger-sparkling-wine-cocktail-recipe.html)  
> [Homemade ricotta](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2010/02/how-to-make-fresh-ricotta-fast-easy-homemade-cheese-the-food-lab-recipe.html)  
> [Pizza sauce](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2010/10/new-york-style-pizza-sauce.html)  
> [Spinach and artichoke potatoes](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2017/11/spinach-artichoke-dip-baked-potatoes-recipe.html)  
> [Aligot](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2016/12/pommes-aligot-french-cheese-mashed-potatoes-recipe.html)  
> [Focaccia](https://www.seriouseats.com/2015/02/how-to-make-the-best-olive-rosemary-pistachio-focaccia-bread.html)  
> [Meatballs](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2016/12/hoisin-glazed-cocktail-meatballs.html)  
> [Lamb](https://www.seriouseats.com/2014/12/how-to-cook-crown-rack-of-lamb-holiday-roast.html)


End file.
